


And Nobody Will Ever Remember

by crazyboutremmy



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, I'm Sorry, M/M, Merlin!Au, Sad times all round really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-17
Updated: 2009-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-14 02:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1248985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyboutremmy/pseuds/crazyboutremmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Merlin’s magic falters as he floats a pail into his room, he thinks nothing of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Nobody Will Ever Remember

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhat character death, not much fluff/humour. Or at all, really.

When Merlin’s magic falters as he floats a pail into his room, he thinks nothing of it. He’s tired, overworked, thirsty and in desperate need of sleep.

‘Maybe if Arthur stops giving me task after task,’ he thinks as he furiously mops the water splashed everywhere (even the ceiling, he swears to god), ‘I’ll be able to take a minute to breathe and give my magic the rest it needs.’

He’ll be fine. Every sorcerer he's read about (or well, Gaius has read abour) has gone through this.

All of them said it was a one-off thing.

*

When it starts to happen two, three, four times a day- well, he begins to think that something is terribly wrong.

*

Arthur stops breathing.

His father turns from the window to look at him, eyebrow raised in a question and mouth twisted in what could almost be called a smile.

“I am not a fool, Arthur. Did you think I wouldn’t notice a sorcerer that lives under my own roof, when it parades itself around every day?”

Arthur is a finely-tuned instrument. He’s been trained to respond automatically and succinctly under diplomatic pressure. To fight the enemy even when he is a hostage of his own fear. He knows how to ensnare women with nary a promise in return. How to impress other nobles with his knowledge, even when he knows nothing. He could fashion a battle plan under a minute, ride into a village and save its bleak future, protect his subjects and yet deal with them if need be. His tutors have presented countless upon countless scenarios and he works and works because his father, his _people_ , deserve perfection. He knows no uncertainty, because a good king cannot afford it.

His fright immobilises him when his father tells him he knows about his manservant, because he is unsure now.

“Tell me, Arthur. Do you know why I had instated the ban on magic?”

Arthur supposes that Uther takes his silence as a reply.

When his father tells him, Arthur feels his legs give way.

*

Merlin tries not to panic or burst into tears at the expression on Gaius’ face when the latter realises that no, Merlin isn't lying. He’s barely able to lift a feather. The book is on the table in front of him and he can’t look at it. There's nothing of value in it anymore.

He feels Gaius sit down next to him, and a hand lands gently on his shoulder.

“What’s happening to me?” Merlin whispers.

*

He’s in Arthur’s chamber, straightens and unstraightens the royal pillows that cradle His Pratness’ head (and even that takes energy he doesn’t have), when the horns sound. He rushes to the window, but can’t see who has arrived. It must have been someone terribly important if Uther has the horns playing, and why hasn't’t Arthur _told_ him?

He barely has time to finish the thought before the door bangs open and Arthur is suddenly pressed up against him, hand firmly clamping down on Merlin’s and red-rimmed eyes blocking his view of the fanfare outside.

Arthur looks down at him with an expression Merlin never wants to see on his face again. It looks like Arthur has seen death.

As Arthur wordlessly pulls Merlin through the corridors, Merlin can’t help but notice through that their fingers are still intertwined.

It’s been days since Arthur has last looked at him, much less touched him.

*

They both slip in through the side door and as Merlin makes to duck behind the pillar where he usually stands Arthur follows him. He trips in his surprise surprise; an arm snakes round his waist and steadies him. Arthur doesn’t remove it.

Uther, who waits for Arthur to arrive, nods at his son and begins his speech. If he notices their position, he says nothing.

“Many years ago, Camelot had once been a place where sorcerers roamed free. If one had a bad day, they could purchase a charm that ensured the rest of their days were not. If your cart had been damaged, a sorcerer would have fixed it. If you had a fever, you could ask someone to cure it. Indeed, anything could be done using magic. I, myself, had appointed a court magician who would take care of all our needs. It was all Camelot required. And then a day after summer had begun, an elderly man appeared at our gates.”

Merlin struggles at the best of times to listen in court, let alone through this haze of tiredness. He looks past Uther to the old man who sits quietly in Arthur’s chair. There’s something about him that is utterly spellbinding. It takes Merlin a while to notice that the man is staring back at him just as intently. He blinks, and tries to refocus on Uther.

“- the prophecy I had ignored. Everything the old sorcerer foretold had come to pass. Unable to ignore what was in front of my eyes, I conceded. And thus the ban against magic was established, to ensure the success of my son’s reign.”

The court murmurs amongst itself, and Merlin is sure he’d be interested too. If he could keep his eyes open, that is. He’s almost willing to risk Uther’s wrath by asking to be excused, when Arthur speaks up.

“And the conditions, father? That the sorcerer set? I noticed you hadn’t mentioned them.”

Merlin raises his head off of Arthur’s shoulder (and when did that happen, he's never going to live it down) to see if Uther was signaling death with his eyes. Instead, Uther looks somewhat remorseful.

“That the Dragon remain near the castle, or Arthur’s death would be inevitable.”

Arthur seems to have stopped breathing, his fingers trying to permanently meld themselves into Merlin’s hip. It's painful. Merlin doesn’t mind, really. The rest of the court hums with excitement. Sir Leon and Sir Gawain look as though they would rush off and guard the Dragon themselves, right this very moment, if they were allowed.

“And that the sorcerer be allowed to send a human golem until he himself finished his travels. The golem would be unobtrusive - a companion to Arthur. Gifted with the sorcerer’s own magic, used to protect Arthur from harm. And on the golem’s coming of age, as such, the sorcerer will integrate the magic back into himself and proceed with Arthur’s training.”

Merlin barely hears Morgana’s question over the rush of his own understanding clamouring in his ears and Arthur’s hitched breathing.

“Who?” she demands. “Who is this golem?”

Merlin knows the answer long before the sorcerer points at him.

*

“You knew.”

The Dragon says nothing. It says nothing as Merlin screams, as he tries to access his magic to hurt the Dragon, as he realises he never again can use what isn’t even his.

*

He doesn’t look in the mirror anymore. He knows what he’ll see there.

*

Arthur can’t look at him without trembling, doesn't look him in the eyes anymore and goes out of his way to avoid him.

But the one time a squire spits at Merlin and taunts him about the fortnight he has left, Arthur breaks the man’s jaw and banishes him from Camelot.

No one bothers Merlin again.

He should feel grateful, but he just feels alone.

*

Morgana and Gwen start to spend all their waking hours with Merlin until he cannot bear to look at their tear-stained faces any longer.

Gaius leaves food and water at Merlin’s door, and is reduced to pleading when it remains untouched.

There’s no point anyway. It’s not as though he’s alive.

*

Arthur rides as though his life depends on it. Or something just as important.

He brushes past the women, the children and the blatant magic around him, straight into the tent.

Mordred barely has time to react before Arthur has seized him by his ridiculous cape.

“Save him,” he hisses. “You owe him that.”

If his hand is shaking where it’s twisted into the cloth at Mordred’s neck, no one mentions it.

“You know I would, Pendragon. But there is nothing to save.”

Arthur leaves before anyone realises he was there.

*

Merlin stops before them. Uther must have felt some pity at the sight of him, because he nods at the sorcerer and moves away.

He pauses next to Merlin and there is a faint “thank you”, and he is gone.

The sorcerer just looks. And then he speaks.

“When I first made you, I did not realise that you would develop a character of your own. You were to be just a nameless, faceless bodyguard to the Prince.”

The sorcerer reaches out to touch Merlin, but thinks better of it.

“It was so easy, to convince the young girl passing by that the newly created golem was her baby, sired by an unknown man. I never dreamed that the magic would manifest itself into…”

He trails off as though he expects Merlin to interrupt.

Merlin feels the magic in him for the first time in a while, rushing, clamouring within his skin, to leave to escape to the sorcerer. He closes his eyes and tries not to think about it. “What about my body, what happens to it once you reclaim the magic?”

“Nothing. At the break of dawn, the magic leaves its vessel and returns to me. It will be as if you have just peacefully passed away.”

They both say nothing. When the sorcerer makes as if to move, Merlin hurriedly speaks.

“What is your name?”

“I have none. There is not one that has suited me before.”

“Merlin.”

A pause.

“You need a name, don’t you? This way history remembers that Merlin saved Arthur.”

That people (that Arthur and Gaius and Gwen and Morgana and-) might still remember him.

He barely waits for the sorcerer’s nod before he walks away. He doesn’t need to see his pity.

*

When there are but four days left, Merlin gets up from his bed and walks outside. He is tired of waiting for death to come to him.

He spends the day gathering herbs for Gaius, plucking flowers for Gwen and Morgana, writes a letter to his mother that he will never send (and it is doubtful she will remember a son after the sorcerer removes her memory) and watches the birds fly overhead as he lies on the hillside.

Later, when he’s finished whittling wooden swords for the stable boys, and he watches them roar with laughter as they chase each other around, he feels someone sit down next to him.

A shoulder knocks into his, and he allows a smile to steal onto his face.

Arthur counts it as a victory.

*

“Come on, you git!”

Merlin pulls a face at Will, struggling to climb up the steep staircase.

“Where,” he pants, “exactly are we going?”

Will points to the door, cheeky grin and tousled hair. He reaches for Merlin, and Merlin almost reaches back, before he remembers.

Arthur.

And then he awakes.

*

Merlin pulls Arthur through the forest, and Arthur follows without question. The earlier rain has vanished and everything smells like a new beginning. Arthur hates it.

After what seems like an eternity, they arrive at a lake. Merlin turns back to Arthur abruptly, and catches his hands and brings them up to his chest.

“I know,” he whispers, nose inches away from Arthur’s. Arthur will to remember this moment forever. “I know that I will be forgotten by everyone as the years go past. And history is going to speak only of Merlin the sorcerer, and not the manservant.”

Merlin shushes him when violent protest bubbles up his throat.

“But I want you to remember that I did this for you.”

And Merlin takes a running leap into the water. If suicidal drowning is what Merlin wants Arthur to remember him by, he’s doing a fine job.

Arthur has nearly shed all his weapons and is ready to dive in and rescue the idiot, when Merlin reemerges, water plastering his hair to his ridiculous ears and looking very much like a drowned cat illuminated by the sun. Arthur feels a dull ache in his chest.

Merlin drops to his knees and brings up the most magnificent sword Arthur has ever seen.

“Its name is Excalibur. And I gave it to you. Arthur, please. _I_ gave it to you.”

There is nothing left to do but accept.

*

They’re back by the lake in two nights. Arthur wonders if Merlin’s thinking about how Gwen’s hands shook as she smoothed down his hair, and how much Morgana cried. How long Gaius hugged him, shoulders trembling while everyone politely averted their eyes.

Merlin catches Arthur’s eye and smiles, motions towards the lake.

Neither of them says a thing as they strip and plunge in. When they resurface Arthur looks away from Merlin’s grin and tries to pretend that there aren’t tears streaming down his face.

*

“I did.”

“Hmmm?”

“When you asked me whether I had had any luck, finding a place where I belonged. I did.”

“I’m glad.”

*

Arthur looks over to where Merlin is stringing daisies together, faint smile on his face. A familiar feeling surges in him. He just thought that they had more time to explore it. Explore them.

There is no more time.

Arthur reaches for Merlin, who looks up, then looks at Arthur’s mouth. Arthur sees his thoughts reflected in Merlin’s eyes.

“Arthur,” Merlin stutters, as an arm strokes his back. “I’m – I’m not even human, I-”

I don’t care, Arthur explains with his mouth pressed against Merlin’s, hips on hips. I love you.

It feels a bit like home, when Merlin smiles against his lips and locks his fingers behind Arthur’s neck.

*

It’s daybreak. Arthur sits and watches the sun come up, everything bathed in a golden light that reminds him of magic.

Herds of deer nuzzle for grass nearby, and Arthur smiles at the antics of a fawn.

The lake shines as brightly as Merlin’s eyes did last night.

_Promise me. Promise me you’ll wake me up at dawn._

“I promise,” murmurs Arthur. The deer scatter.

_You’re going to be a great king, Arthur._

_Don’t ever kill a unicorn again, who’s going to save you?_

_If you’re planning to do this with the other Merlin, tell me now, you prat._

_I love you, Arthur._

“Merlin,” he whispers, tracing the smile on Merlin’s face. His hands start to tremble. “It’s dawn, time to get up. Merlin?”

Merlin doesn’t stir.


End file.
